If the Liquor Doesn’t Kill You…
by sexyspork
Summary: [NickHodges] The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but it’s a good thing U Turns aren’t illegal. Part 1 of 2.


Title: If the Liquor Doesn't Kill You…

By sexyspork and pabzi

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Nick/David

Spoilers: Season 5's _Grave Danger_

Warning: Language, drunken disorderly conduct, abuse of Nick's shirts, a jumpy Greg, and an angry/over-protective Jacqui. Take with food and wait an hour before going into the water. Results may vary.

Summary: The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but it's a good thing U-Turns aren't illegal. Part 1 of 2.

This is all the lovely pabzi's idea. She is the hand while I am merely her humble pen.

-------

When David Hodges walked into his lab to find a nervous Greg Sanders practically going spastic with unspent energy, he knew the smartest thing to do would be to turn around _right now_ and run far, far away. But that would be going from a potentially unknown bad situation into a known worse situation, as Grissom would have his hide and tack it on cork board like one of his bugs if David skipped out now. It was like he had to choose which way he was going to die, and the trace technician was in no way, shape, or form ready to end up on one of Doc Robbins' slabs.

So he decided for an easy cop out. _Break time!_ And just as he turned around to leave _his_ lab (_he shouldn't have to be doing this, that was _his_ lab, damnit!_) to head and grab some more coffee, a cup of steaming ambrosia that David knew to be from Greg's special brand appeared under his nose. Eyeing the CSI warily, he wondered if it was poisoned, because he wouldn't put it past the other man while Greg just smiled nervously.

"I just thought you'd like a cup of coffee." Greg was doing that nervous little stutter that David only heard around Grissom nowadays, and even then it wasn't as often as it used to be. For a moment, he was struck how he missed the _old_ Greg, and not this new facsimile in front of him.

Because the old Greg never would have given him coffee, and that meant the new Greg wanted something.

Watching Greg with sharp blue eyes, David could tell the CSI was using every ounce of concentration he had not to fidget.

"I just thought it would be nice, to show how much you are appreciated."

If anything, that made the tingly feeling running down his spine worse and he could just see _Danger, Will Robinson, Danger_ flashing in big, red, neon signs in his head. Because in all the years he had been alive, when someone implied they wanted to show how valuable you are to them, that meant they wanted something. And nice, no-longer-quite-so-naïve former DNA technicians were not any different.

"What do you want?" David asked suspiciously, watching Greg like the other man was going to suddenly pull out a knife and viciously murder the trace technician. Then the lab would hold a party (_"Ding dong the witch is dead"_) and at least Jacqui knew he wanted to be cremated. Because, technician or not, he saw how bodies ended up and it turned his stomach to know that someday he'd end up like that, too.

"Geeze, you act like no one ever does anything for you."

David leveled him with a look, and Greg wisely shut up for a moment.

"Okay, bad choice of words. But this coffee is yours, it's getting cold, and I swear it is not poisoned and there are no strings attached."

"You don't want anything in return? Nothing at all?"

"_I_ don't want anything."

Ahh. That explained it, Grissom probably had more trace that needed to be analyzed, and had Greg come tell the technician that his shift had just turned into a double. And Greg most likely had stopped by to grab a cup of coffee so as to soothe David over so he would not be prone to shoot the messenger.

David was going to learn real quickly why CSI never assume anything.

"Fine." He stuck out his hand, and Greg handed him the mug with a bright grin that had been missing from the lab for quite sometime.

Sipping the coffee gratefully and feeling the soothing liquid burn down his throat, David turned to his counter to prepare for the sudden amounts of trace that Grissom wanted to be analyzed.

"Hey, Hodges?"

The hesitant tone made David stiffen, and he paused mid-sip.

"I just wanted to let you know… IsetyouuponadatewithNickytomorrow."

The graceful fingers currently gripping the handle of a coffee mug tightened until the knuckles turned white.

"Please repeat that, apparently I've been suddenly struck deaf by the sheer amounts ludicrousy that just currently spewed for from the orifice you call a mouth."

Greg let out a nervous giggle, "Well, I got tired of all the dancing you two were doing around each other, and it's so obvious it's not even _funny_, so… I set you up on a date with Nicky tomorrow."

David breathed in through his nose, struggling to contain the massive amounts of rage that was coursing through him. He could tolerate Jacqui, and sometimes Bobby, attempting to set him up with someone. And with Jacqui being in New York (_a blessing and a curse_), he rarely had nosey individuals messing around with his personal life. It wasn't as if the other techs didn't care, but rather they respected his need for privacy.

But now _this_…

Greg Sanders was going to die in the most horrific, painful way possible.

-------

David glared at the Blue Hawaiian (1) that had just been placed in front of him. Long fingers played with beads of sweat on the table he was seated at before he reached over and popped the slice of pineapple into his mouth. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that lodged itself deep in his gut, David wondered if he should just forgo the girly drink, buy some scotch on the way home, and get drunk off his ass where no one could see his loss of control. Because that way, he'd be able to shake off the humiliation that had slowly began to set in his mind.

Nick was over an hour late.

After the first fifteen minutes had passed, David told himself he would only wait a bit longer, and then leave. He wasn't some damn weakling that would sit and pine, and he definitely wasn't a masochist, because sitting here and doing nothing but drinking some rum mix could only bring embarrassment and pain.

But here he was, way past the time he and Nick had agreed to meet, and David wondered what was wrong with him.

David closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face with a weariness he hadn't realized he had. This whole situation was becoming shittier and shittier And. It. Was. All. Sanders. Fault.

"_I hate you."_

"_Love ya, too. You'll thank me for this later."_

"_The hell I will."_

"_Come on, David, give Nicky a chance."_

"_A chance for what? Humiliation? Degradation? Shame?"_

"_You know he'd never do that."_

"…"

"Yes, but you would and you didn't even tell him about the date, did you?" David said bitterly, ignoring the look or two he garnered from the drunks around him. Reaching for his third drink of the night, he pulled back and cursed bitterly when he noticed his hands were shaking.

Curling his fingers into fists to hand the trembling from himself and those around him, David struggled to keep in control. Betrayals were nothing new to David, hell, his own mother sold him out when he was 9 to his bastard father for a couple grand that most assuredly went to the needle; mothers were supposed to protect their children, not give away parental rights to a man who beat the shit out of things (_mainly his son_) as his favorite past-time. It was sad to say, but David Hodges went through his days wondering who would betray him next and if today would be the day.

And today, it seemed, was Greg's day.

It was a lot more painful than David could have ever thought, and he wasn't quite sure when the DNA-tech-turned-CSI had gotten past his walls and close enough to actually hurt him.

And what was the real kicker, however, was the prospect that Nick Stokes did indeed know, and he and Greg were having a real riot at the trace technician's expense. Hell, they'd probably involved Warrick and got a bet going to see how long he'd wait.

"Jesus Christ." David breathed out, words full of anger mixed with hurt and he downed his drink as his hand shook the glass.

"_So, got any places in mind?"_

"_Your trace is going to disappear. It's not even going to have the chance to hit my pile."_

"_Oh come on, can't you, just for once, believe that your friends would do this out of the goodness of their hearts?"_

"_Would you be surprised if I said no?"_

"_Not really. So name a place."_

"_You don't give up do you?"_

"_One of my best qualities, if I do say so myself. So, gimme a place!"_

"…_Fine. Boadicea's, 10, tell him if he's not there on time, I won't wait." _(2)

David set down the empty glass, staring at it morosely. There was a light buzzing in his head, but he ignored it as he gestured to the waitress for another. Wait, his head wasn't the thing that was buzzing, it was his pants. More specifically, it was his phone.

"Hodges." He snapped, not even bothering to check the ID.

There was a slight pause before a concerned, _"David?"_

"Jacqui?" David froze, unable to understand why the woman who was currently in New York be calling him now, especially considering the time zone difference.

"_Can't a friend call up and ask how you are doing?"_

"Not for us." He grumbled slightly, ignoring the fact they did indeed talk quite a bit to each other, seeing as she was a whole country away.

"_Hmph, fine, so how'd your date at Boadicea's go?"_ David really wasn't that surprised, because even being several thousand miles away, she still kept up to date with the going ons of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He actually wouldn't be that shocked if she knew things before the employees, she was that good.

"Here, why don't you talk to him?" David said mockingly, and held his phone away from him. After a few moments, he put it back to his ear.

"_David, Nick didn't say anything…?"_

"Oh right, I forgot that's _so_ hard to do if you're not there."

There was a moment's pause, and David held the phone away for the expected explosion. He was not disappointed.

"_Oh, he did **not**!_"

He smirked, but if Jacqui could see him, she would have been able to see the cracks in his composure.

"So, what do you think is more plausible? Nick not knowing and Greg setting me up, or Nick knowing, with he, Greg, and Warrick having a bet to see how long I'd wait?" He laughed hysterically, trying to ignore the lump that was beginning to form in his throat, so he took a drink from his Blue Hawaiian that his waitress so thoughtfully brought him.

"_Oh, David…" _Jacqui said softly, and the man didn't have to see her to know tears were beginning to form in her eyes. And that was the one thing that made matters better/worse, because they weren't from pity, but because she actually _cared_. David could count on one hand the amounts of times that happened to him (_Jacqui was the _only_ one, and call it his last ditch attempt in trusting humanity, but David would bet she'd die before she ever betrayed him_).

"It's not like it matters, I'm used to it, just another notch on the long list that I have."

"_David…"_

"And, it's not like I _need_ him here to enjoy a drink. They have this rum concoction, it's called the 'Blue Hawaiian' and it's actually quite good. You'd like it, because it has little wedges of pineapple and I know you are fond of the stuff. The only reason I got it was because it had the same name as the little fucker's coffee, and thought it'd be good by association." He laughed again, but it sounded…off, and David wondered idly as he popped the slice of said pineapple into his mouth where the rest of his drink had gone.

"_How many glasses have you had to drink, David?"_ Jacqui asked bluntly, and David cocked his head a bit, trying to remember things before everything had started blurring together.

"Four… I think…"

"_You're drunk, David."_ Jacqui said flatly, but even in his inebriated state, David could hear the rising concern.

"Nope, I'm not drunk. I'd be able to tell."

"_David, you're one of those bastards who could walk in a straight line and still be drunk. No one can tell with people like you!"_

"Hmm, first my nose is valuable, and now so is my ability to hold my drinks. You'd think men would just be _flocking_ to my door, now wouldn't you?" He said mockingly.

"_You don't **hold them**, David; you just don't seem like your drunk!"_

"And only those close to me would be able to tell? Good thing you're not here then, 'cause I have nothing to worry about now." He said idly, gesturing for another drink. David had been serious when he said they were quite good, and had grown fond of them as the night wore on.

"_David…"_ Jacqui paused, and when she spoke again it was with the steel that David associated with her. _"Stay there and don't you dare drive home. I'm going to hang up now, but I'll call you back as soon as I'm done."_

"You're not my mother." David said petulantly, ignoring the fact that he sounded like a sullen child.

"_You'll do as I say, David Hodges, or I will hunt you down. Got it?"_ David would have thought it to be an idle threat if it had been anyone but Jacqui.

"Fine." He muttered, and Jacqui bid him a good night.

-------

"_Hey, Nicky! I got a place!"_

"_Really, where at?"_

"_Some bar called 'Boudica's' or something like that. He said he'd meet you at 10, and he said he wouldn't wait if you ran late, but I know him, and he would." _(3)

"…"

"_Nicky?"_

"_Thanks for everything, man. I…"_

"_Hey, it's no biggie, I was just getting tired of two of my friends acting liking pining teen girls. It was kinda amusing, though…" _

Nick woke with a start as his phone ran on his bedside table and he grabbed it instantly and said, "Stokes", because for all he knew, it could be the lab needing his help on his day off. Which would suck, but he did like his job and was good at what he did.

"_Hey, Nick."_ A shiver crawled down his spine at the chilly tone in Jacqui Franco's voice. _"Is now a bad time? Because I'd **really** hate to bother you."_

"Ah…no, Jacqui, now isn't a bad time." Nick said, blinking away sleep from his eyes as he sat up to talk with a former colleague.

"_Ah, then I have to ask, why the **hell **is David sitting in a bar, drunk off his ass, because you stood him up?" _She said, tone icy with incontrollable rage.

"Hey now, he never showed up. He stood _me_ up." Nick protested, a bit angry that he was being judged without a chance to defend himself when the situation wasn't his fault.

Jacqui snarled, and Nick knew if they had been talking in person, she would have gone for his eyes.

"_David wouldn't do that, because, unlike some, he'd actually let you know if he wasn't interested!"_

"Hey! I waited for almost an hour, he never showed up!"

"_Nicky, you agreed to meet at Boadicea's, right?" _

"Yeah, I figured David only said yes to get Greg off his back."

"_Nick, there's three bars in Las Vegas with variations of the Iceni Queen's name. Which one did you go to?"_

"Boudica's, B-o-u-d-i-c-a-'s."

"_Crap."_ Jacqui murmured and then sighed. _"Could you honestly believe David would take you to a dive like that? He meant_ _Boadicea's. B-o-a-d-i-c-e-a-'s."_

"Shit." Nick said with a groan, rubbing his face with his free hand.

"_Now, you have two choices. You can either go pick him up and make up for your misunderstanding, or you can go into hiding because I'm going to hunt you down like the dog you are."_ Jacqui said sweetly, and Nick knew she would come all the way to Vegas to fulfill her word. Even though he faced down guns, stalkers, and being buried alive, Jacqui scared him more than all those things put together.

"Of course, now that I know where he is."

"_One warning, he's drunk. David doesn't drink; he's only been trashed twice in all the years I've known him. You probably won't be able to tell right away and on top of that…he's a bit of a…bipolar drunk. He'll sound and act somewhat normal, but he's moods will swing from one end spectrum to the other in a blink of an eye."_

"Thanks for the warning, Jacqui." He said, rolling out of bed and grabbing the nearest pair of jeans.

"_It's only fair, because if you mess this up, I'll have every reason to hurt you."_ She said, voice oozing innocence and Nick shuddered again. Jacqui Franco scared the _piss_ out of him.

-------

When Nick walked through the doors ofBoadicea's, he could understand why David picked this place. On the outside, it seemed like a little hole-in-the-wall that visitors would avoid frequenting for the more "classy" establishments. But the moment he walked in, Nick's breath caught in his throat. It was a small little pub, based on old English taverns that would explain being named after a long-dead British queen. It wasn't spotlessly clean, it was still a bar, but it seemed more like a lounge than anything else, and the décor was quite soothing.

And sitting at a table near the back, was David, and Nick felt guilt settle into his stomach. Walking over the trace technician with a small amount of trepidation, he took a seat opposite of the other man.

David watched him for a moment, toying with the rim of his empty glass and Nick couldn't help but wonder if Jacqui was right. He certainly didn't _look_ drunk aside from the slight tint of red around his eyes.

"So," David began, shifting backwards in his seat to get a better look at the CSI. "Who won the bet?"

"Bet?"

"Seeing as you're here, you are obviously checking to see how long I waited --and I stopped waiting for you _hours_ ago, by the way-- I just want to know who won the bet. Was it Warrick, Greg, or you?"

_Oh fucking hell…_

------- _  
_

David watched Nick with a small amount of curiosity, anger and hurt shoved back somewhere in his mind to be dealt with at a later date. Now he just wanted to know so he knew who would receive the worst of his revenge when he had to go back to work. But he did wonder if retribution would compensate for the knowing looks the younger CSI males would throw between themselves in his presence, and maybe New York had an open trace technician spot available…?

"There was no bet, David."

David snorted, ignoring the beseeching tone in the CSI's voice. He and Greg obviously proved that they couldn't be trusted, so did he have to sit here and take this crap? _Hell no!_

"You know, you don't have to lie. It's not like it matters seeing as you are Nick fucking Stokes and I am David idiot Hodges, and there really isn't a contest in who would believe me if I ever told anyone about this."

"David, I went to the wrong bar! There was a misunderstanding!"

David stood up from his chair angrily, movements jerky in comparison to his usual graceful self. Walking over to the counter to pay and tip the waitress that served him for the night, he ignored Nick as the other man followed closely behind him.

"David, _please_."

David couldn't help but freeze at the pleading tone in the other man's voice, but he avoided Nick's eye. The CSI, seeing his chance, placed a hand on the trace technician's shoulder and leaned in close to talk softly in David's ear.

"I swear on God above I did not set you up and the only thing Greg hoped to gain tonight was some satisfaction at having fulfilled the matchmaking urge that seems to be genetic with all lab rats." He grinned slightly, and David felt his lips twitch in response before the slight amusement he felt faded away.

"I don't believe in God." He said softly and Nick took David's hand in his own. David viciously killed the thrill of warmth before it could settle in his stomach. David was only human and could only take being burned so many times…

"Believe in this, then. Believe that I genuinely find you attractive and would love to take you on a date. Please, give this a chance."

"Even _I_ don't like myself, so how in the hell could you?" David grumbled, and Nick was glad that Jacqui had warned him about the mood swings, because between the anger, depression, self-deprecation, and whatever that was sure to come later, he most definitely would have been thrown for a loop.

"You'll be surprised at what I like."

"I already am."

There was a pause in the conversation and Nick blushed bright red when he noticed that David's waitress was starring at them avidly, like they were the latest plot-device on some soap. David, being not-so-slightly drunk, didn't register it.

"So, we're good?"

David gave Nick a look, which would have been more effective if the trace technician had been able to stay upright without rocking back and forth.

"For now, at least." He responded, and Nick couldn't fight back the bright grin that crossed his face. However, it faded slowly into concern as David's swaying became more pronounced, and Nick reached towards him hesitantly.

"I think it's time to get you home."

"Don't want to." He grumbled and Nick knew if he had been drunk off his ass like David was right now, the CSI wouldn't have been able to string a sentence together, let alone speak coherently.

"Come on, I'll drive you." Blue eyes watched him warily before David tried to turn around on his heel to walk away from the man. But he failed, and only managed a small stumble, and Nick was at his side in a flash, arm wrapped around the trace technician's waist.

"You could take advantage of me." David started haughtily, and Nick stopped trying to count all the mood shifts the other man was going through. "I know I appear very vulnerable right now, but if you try anything I'll kick your ass. Or have Jacqui do it."

Nick grinned, slowly guiding David towards his SUV, resisting a grin because even with David's babbling, the other man was clutching his shirt like there was no tomorrow and in such a way that made Nick pretty sure he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Need a female to fight your battles?"

"Not just any female, CSI Stokes. A she-demon who sucks out the life of the living with a single look. I made her a deal that I got to keep my soul for a Milky Way, and she took it. But I probably don't have much of a soul left to satisfy any devil, let alone her."

"You don't think you have a soul?" He paused outside the bar, watching David with wide brown eyes. The other man didn't notice and continued to talk in a blithe tone.

"I hear that I don't have a heart often enough around the lab, but you can't survive without a heart 'cause it's physically impossible. So I figured I didn't have soul, because a man can survive without that. Like the living dead; alive, but not really."

Glazed blue eyes looked up at him and Nick felt everything stop. "Do you think I'm alive? Because Grissom may call himself a ghost, but at least people know his name…"

Nick brushed gentle fingers against a pale, alcohol-flushed cheek. He tried to swallow the lump beginning in his throat, but was less than successful. "I know you are alive, David," He breathed with reverence, as if he was saying a prayer. "And I know you have a soul, because if you didn't, why would you care so much?"

David snorted, stumbling slowly away and apparently forgetting that his fingers were currently wrapped tightly in the soft material of Nick's shirt, forcing the CSI to walk with him so neither would be pitched head first into the ground.

"Shows how much you know. Because I _don't_ care, and I hope humanity dies and leaves me alone in peace. Which would be a nice thing, because then I wouldn't have to deal with friends-who-aren't-friends, enemies, and nuisances."

"You wouldn't have to deal with me…?" Nick asked softly, digging his free hand around in his pockets for his keys.

"Yes, because you're a nuisance. Always getting into trouble and always making people sick with worry."

There was no need to say the name "Walter Gordon" or the word "kidnapped".

"Were you worried?"

"Hell no, because I'd have to care for that to happen. Which I don't." It was the most outright lie that Nick had ever heard (_and he heard quite a lot_), and it made a grin cross his face.

"I heard from Greg that you were ready to tackle the delivery boy for the package."

David snorted as Nick let out a small "_Aha!_" at having found his keys.

"The stupid monkey was pawing at it like a dog in heat. Stupid, stupid boy." Blue eyes fixed on Nick lazily. "And I still don't care."

Nick didn't utter a word, but let his bright grin say everything. Walking David to the passenger side to help the poor drunk man in first, he opened the door as David first noticed how he was clinging to the CSI.

Glancing at the Texan accusingly, he petulantly declared, "Your shirt is molesting my fingers."

Nick couldn't stop the sudden burst of laughter, and if anything, that made the other man's scowl transform into pout.

"I can file charges. An' Brass can arrest you."

"Is it even possible for an inanimate object to do so?"

"Don't know, but it's your shirt so I'll give it the benefit of the doubt."

Carefully removing his clothing from David's grasp while hiding a grin, Nick helped settle the trace technician in his seat before going over to the driver's side. Once buckled in, he looked at the slumped form of the other man who was leaning heavily against the window. Blue eyes were closed to the world as alcohol-laden breath fogged the glass and Nick felt something tug at his heart (_or his groin, whichever he was currently thinking with at the moment_).

"David, what are the directions to your house?"

No response. The CSI leaned in closer, and from his even breathing, David was out cold to the world. Nick sighed softly, started the car, and drove home. Because Nick didn't dare to call Jacqui for directions, when he was pretty sure that'd be the excuse she needed to hunt him down.

The drive to his place was uneventful, and they only really encountered a problem when Nick parked outside his apartment building, trying to figure out how to get David up the stairs. Watching the trace technician who was still slumped and out cold, Nick gave a mock little sigh as he cracked his knuckles.

"You're gonna kill my back." Nick mumbled as he pulled the other man awkwardly into his arms. A fireman's carry would be easier, but he really didn't want to induce the other man to vomit, so bridal it was. And, to Nick's surprise, David was much lighter than he first assumed (_the height similarity was a bit of a problem, though_). Not like a feather, but enough so that he had half a thought to inform Jacqui. Because there really was only one force on Earth that David Hodges would listen to, and that was Jacqui Franco. And even thousands of miles away, she would find ways to make the trace technician eat…

"Do you have an escalator?" David mumbled, face pressed into Nick's shoulder and the CSI started when he realized that the man was awake, but not entirely lucid. "Because the way they are moving, they are either alive or your apartment complex is so much more high-tech than mine…"

"No escalator, not alive, and you had way too much to drink. How much did you have, anyways?" Nick asked, taking the stairs as carefully as he could so as to not jostle the other man.

"I'm still conscious, so I clearly did not have enough, but I'd put it in the range of…nine-ish."

Biting his tongue and deciding the best course would be to not provoke an argument, Nick was trying to ignore how much he liked the feel of the other man pressed into him. And when graceful fingers began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, he swallowed hard and decided that he was so very, incredibly screwed.

Fumbling with his keys, he managed to get them both into his apartment relatively unscathed (_he had almost knocked David's head against the door frame_). Glancing down at the man in his arms, half-lidded blue eyes watched him intently.

"Do you, uh, need anything?"

"Just…tired…" David muttered softly as his eyes began to droop once more. Nick nodded, and being the gentleman he was, gave David his bed. Placing the man down gently as he could, he was about to say goodnight when hands wrapped themselves in his shirt (_what was with David and his obsession with Nick's shirts?_) and jerked him down on the bed. Nick stifled a groan at the feeling of the other man under him, and looked up at David. Nick couldn't identify any of the emotions running through the other man's eyes, but they stayed frozen for only a moment.

And when David kissed him, full of tongue and teeth that drove Nick crazy, the CSI responded eagerly. Hands instantly wound themselves into the trace tech's hair as Nick pressed his body insistently into the man beneath him. However, it was the underlying taste of alcohol that made Nick pull away with some disappointment.

"You're drunk, David."

"All the better. You'll have an excuse."

Rolling off the other man and climbing to his feet, Nick successful gathered his arousal under control. Which was a lot harder (_no pun intended_) than it sounded. And the thought of what Jacqui would do to him if he took advantage of the drunk trace technician helped immensely. "Not like this, David."

A sharp bark of bitter laughter broke the silence and David curled into the covers, turning away from the other man. Nick hesitated, before brushing a gentle hand through David's hair.

"We can talk in the morning."

With that, Nick shut off the light and left the room before his libido took control and he jumped the man. A cold shower was most _definitely_ in order.

-------

Meh, 14 pages. That is one of my longer pieces and makes me glad I decided to break it into two parts.

(1) Blue Hawaiian – a mix of rum and Blue Curacao blended with pineapple juice and cream of coconut (traditionally garnished with a pineapple wedge)

(2) & (3) – Boadicea/Boudica are two different spellings of the same name of the woman who was queen of the Iceni tribe about 60 AD when Britain was under control of the Romans. After her husband died, she was flogged and her daughters were raped, which ignited the fury of her people. Her rebellion was only defeated after she totally destroyed three towns (including now a day London) and an entire Roman legion. You'll see her name pop up in my work every once and a while, because she's very, very cool. Like Jacqui.


End file.
